Born for Eachother, Born to Die: Clato
by clove-stayswithhim
Summary: This is a Clato fanfiction, based off of the first book in The Hunger Games trilogy. Their story starts at 13 years old, and ends in the Games.
1. Chapter 1

**Please read this first: Before you start reading my fanfiction, please try to understand the angle I'm going for here. I made Cato and Clove strangers who at the same time have a backstory so that they could slowly fall for eachother before and during the Games. I am really not great at writing casual conversations, so don't hate. I have written parts of the feast scene and Cato's death, and I think dramatic scenes are my strong point, so I hope you'll stick around to read those. c: I'm sorry if this first scene is boring for you.**

**I have decided I am going to write parts of the book from Cato's point of view, but not the whole book. The parts I'm doing are the reaping, the tribute parade, the bloodbath, the tracker jacker scene,one random night in the Games, the announcement of two winners, the feast scene, and Cato's death. Thanks!**

I remember the first time I ever talked to her. I was thirteen years old. My Dad had gotten drunk that night. As I ran through the rain, to the training center, his words echoed through my head. _You're worthless, Cato,_ he had said_. Why are you such a disappointment? Why won't you volunteer? I saw you training the other day. One of the trainers beat you in hand-to-hand combat. Do better next time. Volunteer, volunteer, volunteer… _My father had followed me through the house, screaming at me, while my mother stood idly by and watched. She always says she loves me, but never tries to stop when he hits me. She's never once tried to put a stop to the abuse. Insult after insult came my way, until I couldn't take it anymore. "Dad, shut up! Why are you so obsessed with me and my training? It's pathetic, you know. Just because you were never good enough to volunteer for the Games doesn't mean you have to push me so hard. I don't have to be perfect all the time. I can make one mistake. Grow the fuck up and get over it!"" I had screamed.

I was in a blind rage, but the instant the words were out of my mouth I regretted them. My father's eyes got wider and wider as I spit the words out at him, until finally he barreled towards me. He wrapped his hand around my throat, pinning me to the wall, and raised the beer bottle he had clutched in his hand high above his head. Before it could make contact with my skull, I kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying into the kitchen, and ran out of the house before I could suffer the consequences. I started sprinting down the street, squinting through the rain that was pouring relentlessly onto my district. There was only one other place I could think to go in the rain, and that was to the training center. Good place to blow off steam, I thought.

I stormed into the building, not bothering to lay low. No one would go to the training center that late at night. I instantly headed towards the room where guys of my stature usually train and decided to practice throwing spears. It's not my strong point, and it had some room for improvement. I had raised my second spear, ready to throw it at a target, when I heard a cry of frustration coming from another room. The spear left my hand and hit the target to the left of the one I was aiming for. I started cursing in frustration and ran to the room I thought the sound had come from. I stopped in the doorway as soon as I saw who it was.

I'd seen Clove often enough around town. I'd heard plenty of things about her, about her skills. I'd studied her in school, fascinated by this mysterious girl who was apparently so talented with knives. But I'd never seen her use that talent until that night. Clove had a large, wicked looking dagger in her hand. She turned towards a target, threw the knife and hit in right in the center. Before I could say anything, she had grabbed two more from her belt and threw them at two separate targets, hitting them both in the center at the same time. I took a step towards her and she whipped around, eyes alert and knife raised. "Um.. Cato? What are you doing here?"

I'd always thought Clove was pretty. Whenever I was sure no one was watching me, I would steal glances at her in class or in the hallway at school. Seeing her train just made my fascination with her grow. "Well, I could ask you the same question," I replied. "You made me screw up on my training." This is the guard I put up with everyone. Everyone knows me as Cato, the conceited guy with insane survival skills.

"Oh, is that right? Well, if you're half as good as everyone tells me you are, you wouldn't let sounds coming from another room distract you from training," Clove said. I expected her to be hostile towards me after I snapped at her, but she looks at me with challenge in her eyes and a smile on her face.

"Oh. So you've heard about me, have you?" I joked.

"Honestly, Cato. Who hasn't? And I see by the look in your eyes you've heard about me as well. It's too familiar," she paused, hesitating on her next comment. "What do you say you help me with my training? I've been needing someone to practice with…"

And with that, we spent the whole night together. We practiced our weapon training, hand to hand combat, endurance skills, and climbing. By three AM, we were both sweaty, and tired. We ran to the benches lining the room and got ourselves water. As I bent over to grab a towel, I felt a bucket of cold water drench me from head to toe. I whipped around to find Clove standing there with an red bucket in her hands, laughing her head off. "Oh, sorry Cato. You just looked a little warm." Before she could react, I picked her up by her legs and started running outside, with her in my arms. I was only thirteen but incredibly strong for someone my age. Carrying Clove was much easier than lifting the bulky weights from the training room. Outside, it was still pouring rain, and I carried Clove under the gutter, where there was a steady stream of water pouring out. In seconds, she was drenched.

I stayed outside with Clove for hours, laughing, flirting, and talking. By the time we parted, it was 5 in the morning, and I slipped into the house through my bedroom window. My father would never remember I was gone, by the state he was in. I went to bed that night with thoughts of Clove with her long, brown hair covered with raindrops, her face lit up with a smile. That was the first time I've ever seen her without a scowl on her face, I thought. She's guarded, like me.

For weeks, Clove and I didn't acknowledge each other in school or around town. But one day, I was sitting on the outskirts of the district, avoiding my family, when I heard someone creep up behind me. It was Clove. She calmly walked up to me and sat down beside me. For a few minutes, we didn't say anything. We just stared off into the distance, watching birds fly over the far-off mountains. Then, we began to talk. I talked with Clove for hours that day. I told her about my family, the abuse I'd suffered at home, and how badly I wanted to volunteer for the Games. She opened up about her aunt, who had volunteered for the Games when she was sixteen and never made it out. Because of this, her mother pushed her to volunteer, as if Clove could fill to void left in the family by winning the Games. Only for some reason, Clove didn't want to volunteer, which struck me as odd. Clove would have as good a chance as anyone I know to win the Games, and who doesn't want to go into the arena? Who doesn't want to be showered with riches and become victor?

No matter. Better that she's safe home in the district, I thought. Then I shook my head to clear those thoughts out of it. I could feel myself falling for this girl, and love is something a guy like me cannot afford.

For a few more hours, Clove and I shared with each other the details of our lives, every in and out that had never been spoken aloud. I had no idea why I was even talking to her. All I knew was that it was easy to trust her, easy to like her. And I liked the idea of having her by my side all day. After a comfortable silence had settled over the conversation, I looked over at Clove, a smile tugging at my lips. She lifted up her head and stared back at me, and whispered the words I have not forgotten to this day. "You know, we barely know each other, but at the same time we know everything about each other." I took in the truth of her words. It was plain bizarre, the way we had trusted each other so quickly. I didn't even know how I felt about the situation, just that it felt natural. Before I had even thought my action through, I did the only thing it felt natural to do, surprising even myself. I leaned in and kissed Clove full on the mouth. At first she tried to pull away, startled, but then she kissed back, passionately. We sat there, intertwined with each other, until I felt a blow taken to my chest.

Clove had pushed me away from her and jumped to her feet, hair flying and face terrified. I knew all too well exactly what she was scared of. She was terrified of the fact that she had confided in someone. Terrified that we kissed. Terrified that she had let her guard down, even for a little while. "Cato. No. No! We can't, I can't. I don't—Just. Just stay away from me."

I sat there, stunned, as I watch Clove sprint away to her house. I had let her leave, just like that, without saying a word. I was rendered speechless by her sudden change in mood, how she could go from being so warm to fleeing the scene in a single instant.

Ever since then, we've been strangers.

I would make attempts to talk to her in school, stare at her when I knew she wasn't watching. But Clove never talked to me again after that day. I would catch her looking at me occasionally, and every time I caught her, it seemed that she wanted to say something to me but decided to hold back. I would always watch her while she trained, and listened to the people of District 2 commend her for her skills. As we grew up, I kept my tabs on her, but never let my keen interest in her come to the surface. For a little while, I had gotten to know the mysterious girl with the knives. I had learned who she was and saw a side of her that no one else has since. And I let that slip through my grasp without a fight.

That was four years ago. Clove and I have grown into different people. I am not close to anyone and have made no attempt to get close to her. I have my guy friends that I endlessly joke around with, but other than that the guard I created long ago is still here. At 17 years old, I am now a vicious career who wants nothing more than to volunteer in the Games. This year. At 16, Clove has grown into a cold girl who trains with her knives and keeps to herself. I think of my experience with her that day at the edge of District 2 often, but we now know nothing about each other. I have a feeling this suits Clove just fine.

I woke up this morning thinking, today's the day. Today's my day. Now, I walk towards the town square and my father's loud, booming voice in my head. "We're so lucky to have the Capitol as our leaders, son," he had said. "They know just how to keep the pathetic, lower districts in line. They reward us with riches when we win their Games, a gracious gift despite the fact that we so foolishly rebelled against them. You'll be our victor one day, Cato. You'll make the whole district proud.

I remember looking up into my father's eyes, mine wide with curiosity. Thinking of a future where I was victor of the Games. It's my year to do just that. It's my year to volunteer, and win. I turn the corner that leads into the square just as the clock strikes two. I run over to the area roped-off for sixteen-year olds and shove my way to the front. No one questions me. I'm one of the most skilled, feared, and admired careers in the District. They've all seen me in training and wouldn't dare to call me out on anything. I stare at the confident faces of the boys around me, most of which I've seen around town. A lot of the kids here are hoping that their name gets pulled out of the reaping bowl. One of them will get their wish. But no matter what, I'm volunteering this year. I can't afford to wait until the next reaping. I stand there, bored, waiting for the ceremony to begin. As soon as the large population of District 2 all file into the square, the mayor begins his speech. Although I'm not paying attention, I know exactly what the speech is about. It's the same one every year. He talks about how Panem came about, the rebellion, and what it left us with. The Hunger Games.

Iris Mundler, the District 2 escort, glides to the front of the stage as soon as the mayor is finished. She's as eager as ever for the reaping as she welcomes us all here. She heads to the glass bowl stationed on the left and I brace myself for the reaping of the girl tribute.

I feel the wind go out of me as her name is pulled out of the reaping bowl and spoken aloud. I wasn't prepared for it. I wasn't prepared for this particular girl to get reaped. I jolt forward and the boys around me shoot me looks, eyebrows raised. This isn't the kind of behavior that anybody expects from me. I quickly straighten up and raise my eyebrow, making an attempt to make it look like I'm sizing her up. I watch as the girl with the long, brown hair moves forward to the District 2 Justice Building. She walks calmly up the steps, head held high as she tells the escort her name. "Clove."

It echoes across the town square, through my mind. _Clove? She's only sixteen. She only has five entries, _I think. You can see in her eyes that she is trying hard to hide her fear. In her stature and facial expression, you would never know. No one who doesn't know her would even recognize the hint of fear that has settled onto her features. But I notice it. I'm probably the only person here who realizes how scared she is inside. Because I do know her. Or, I've always felt like I do. This is the girl I have so often watched from afar in training, the girl whose skills make her admired by all those of District 2. I have spent years trying to convince myself I am not in love with Clove. And now I never can be. These are my games to win. And I would never let something as distracting as love stand in my way.

As the crowd cheers for Clove, I study her. She's steeling her emotions, looking straight ahead. The determined expression on her face cannot be mistaken. She's not losing these Games without putting up a fight first. I'm thinking of the skills I have that could be of use in the arena when I hear the escort's voice call out, "Any volunteers?" I've missed the call for the boy tribute. "I volunteer! I volunteer." I yell. Whoops and cheers from the audience follow me as I walk confidently to the stage. A smile creeps onto my lips. A few weeks from now, I'll be home and bathed in riches. My district will look upon me with pride as I am crowned victor of the Seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games.

As I reach the top of the steps I shake Iris's hand and tell her my name. "May I present to you this year's tributes of District 2—Cato and Clove!" she calls out. I turn to Clove and shake her hand. She looks up into my eyes and I see no trace of fear in her large brown ones, which surprises me. I'm the biggest threat to her than anyone else could've been in the arena. As we shake, she gives me one look: The same look of challenge she had first given me on the day I first met her, and a sly smile to go with her.

As we shake, Iris presents us with words of enthusiasm. The crowd erupts into cheers and clapping. Everyone will be rooting for me in the arena. They all know I'm going to come out as victor. And Clove stands a fighting chance as well. The whole district has seen her hit the bulls-eye with her knife from unbelievable distances. This year, there will be no boring moment in the Games for the citizens of District 2. Clove and I, we're the most exciting pair they've had in years.

After the general clapping subsides, Iris ushers Clove and I into the Justice Building. I'm directed up a large marble staircase to the room I'll stay in while I wait for my family and friends to come say their goodbyes. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the cold parting words my father will send my way. I can't afford to get angry over the things he says, or let it pray on my mind. I have to force myself to focus on the days ahead.

"Cato!" my mother's desperate voice calls out to me as they burst through the door.

"Hey, Mom." My arms wrap around her, surprised by her tone. She's known I would volunteer for the Games since I was a little boy. I hold her in my arms for a few minutes until my father's gruff voice breaks the silence. He clears his throat and begins to speak, spitting his words out at me. "Son," He says. "Don't go screw up in that arena. You've trained for this. You've trained to be the best. Do not disappoint me. You screw up, you disappoint the whole District." I nod, looking into my father's cold eyes that show no hint of remorse or fear of me going into the arena. I guess that means he has confidence in me, I think. He knows I'll come out a winner. A hint of doubt still plays on my mind, however. I have to prove myself to him, and not let him down, not once, in the Games. When I come home, things have to be different.

"Now, hon. We both know how well he'll do. We'll see him in a few weeks," my mother says. She's trying to tiptoe around a fight. My father grunts in response, and we sit in silence until a peacekeeper comes to take them away. "I love you, Cato. Please be careful," my mother says, her eyes shining with tears. I give her one last hug and shake my father's hand. As our eyes meet, I'm again reminded of the conversation we shared when I was young. Memories flood my mind as my parents walk out the door.

It started out easy. My father encouraged me to eat right and stay strong, to train as best I could. But every year I got closer to the first age of eligibility, my father changed more and more. He would force food down my throat and force me to train for hours on end. After each training day he would drill me on what I worked on, every single detail of what had happened. Then, he began following me to training, watching my every move. I would come home exhausted and he would demand that I work on things he saw me slip up on that day. He would watch me do them in our yard. If I didn't do it right, I could expect a punch. A kick. An elbow to the jaw. It terrified me when I was younger. As he would hit me, I would beg him to stop, promise to do it right the next time. But he wouldn't stop until he felt I had "learned a lesson." I would clench my teeth until the beating was over, then run to my room and silently cry, careful he didn't hear me. Tears would only make him think I was weak.

One particular memory comes to the surface of my mind. It was after a long day of training. My father had me throwing spears at the training center long after everyone had gone home. I threw one at a target board, and I missed. My father screamed. I had retaliated by slapping him across the face. He looked taken aback at first, but then anger consumed his features. He had run up to me and knocked me unconscious. That was the day I realized I didn't know who he was anymore.

After that, I learned to guard myself. I trained until I was the best, until I saw a smile cross my Dad's face. It came to a point where it wasn't so bad anymore. My Dad hasn't beaten me in a while, because he has had no reason to. But he changed me. I've trained so hard that the whole district expects great things from me now. And it all rests on my shoulders. I have to win The Games.

"Hey, man." I hear someone say. I look up to see that my friend Jason had slipped through the door without me noticing. Jason and I have been friends since we were little. Our parents are close and he's always been around when I needed him, even after I became so irritable. These past few years, we haven't been as close as we used to be. But I'm glad he came to say goodbye. "Hey, good luck in the arena. Don't come home too scratched up, alright? You'll want to look good for the cameras," he says. I chuckle at his comment and look up to find his eyes trained on me.

"What?" I say, defensively.

"What are you going to do about Clove?" Jason says.

"What do you mean, what am I going to do about her?" I yell, and it comes out more viciously than I intended. "Look, I'm gonna be fine. I'll ally with her, we can form a pack with some of the other tributes. It won't come down to the two of us. And if I have to kill her, I—I will."

"Look man, you're my best friend. I don't doubt your abilities, there's no way you're losing the Games. But just watch out with her. You've been in in love with her for three years, even if you think I didn't notice. I just don't know if you'll be able to turn your back on her."

"It's gonna be fine, okay. It's not love, what I feel for Clove. And love isn't going to get in the way of me winning this thing. You know that."

"Alright, Cato. Take care of yourself." We exchange one quick hug and then he's gone.

As I watch Jason walk out the door, the words he shared with me sink in. I find myself pacing the room, muttering to myself. Because I've just realized that killing Clove in the arena would be one of the hardest things I'd ever have to do. I just realized that killing her would be something I'm incapable of. I've just realized that Clove is my biggest weakness. And this horrifies me.


	2. Chapter 2

I lie in my bed, staring up at the ceiling of my current living space. It's my first night on the train, and I can't get any sleep. My mind is consumed with thoughts of my father and what his reaction will be if anything goes wrong in the arena, and, for reasons beyond my control, thoughts of Clove. When I'm not thinking of my family, thoughts of our first words spoken together come into my mind. I think of her face at the reaping, how she handled it, how she acted at other points in her life. I keep thinking of how different Clove is from the other girls I've known in my life, and trust me, there have been plenty.

I role over in my bed and shake my head, trying to clear it. The bed I'm sleeping on is incredibly soft, and if I can focus just on that, I might be able to nod off. I stare at the blue mattress, staring at the blanket that covers my body. I'm pinching the fabric between two of my fingers when I finally close my eyes and drift off into sleep.

The dream begins as soon as I slip into a deeper state of sleep, which does not take long. I stand in the hallway of my school back in District 2, watching the crowd of kids laugh and talk to their friends, all moving to their next class. I've always hated school. The people there care about things I think are simple-minded, and whenever I'm at school I want to be training. I've always seen the knowledge they feed us about the Capitol as a waste of time. When I'm victor of the Games, I'll be rich and famous. I won't need school.

It's these thoughts that fill my head when I see a girl walking toward me, the very girl that lifts my spirits and takes my mind off of how pointless being in this building is. Clove pushes me against the wall I'm leaning on and stares up into my eyes. "How about a kiss like our first?" she says, with an edge to her voice. She leans into my lips and kisses me, and I close my eyes as soon as her tender lips touch mine. There is a feeling of bliss clouding my thoughts as I run my fingers through her long, soft hair. I'm living in the moment with Clove, worried that there won't be another one for a while. Because surely, she'll run off like the last time.

My fingers reach the end of a strand, and I pull my hand out of her hair. As I run my fingers back down over her head, feel a sharp stab of pain cut across my hand. I open my eyes to find Clove's soft face covered with blood, sharp daggers concealed in her hair. She opens her mouth, which is filled with blood, and leans in close to my ear. "We're in their Games, sweetheart. Are you going to kill me?" she whispers. Clove pulls away from my face and stands in front of me, her eyes unforgiving. There are cuts all over her body, and all I can take in is the gruesome sight of the girl standing in front of me.

I try to grab for her hand, hoping that this gesture will convey the words to her that I cannot speak aloud. That I would never let her die without putting up a fight. That I could never bring a weapon down on her, forcing the life out of her eyes. That I am of no threat to her in the Games. Clove leans into me again, so close this time that her blood drips onto my shirt. "You know it can't be both of us," she says with a giggle. "And even if you survive, our love won't." The minute the last word of the sentence is out of her mouth, Clove collapses to the ground, and a knife impales her through the neck. "Clove!" I scream. "Clove!" I repeat her name until my screams bring me back to myself. I awake abruptly to find myself drenched in a cold sweat, screaming nonsense words into the night. "Damn it," I say to no one.

I throw the blanket off of my body and stumble into the bathroom. I turn on the shower and throw myself into the cold water with all of my clothes still on. Anything to wash away the memory, the feeling of the nightmare I have just had.

The freezing water drips on to my face, and I lie in the shower with my eyes closed, feeling the chill of it as it seeps through my clothes. What could that dream mean, I ask myself. I imagine the panic that took control of my heart when I saw Clove drop to the ground, the way I woke up screaming. "God damn it!" I say aloud, again. Am I really letting this girl get to me? You've got a game to win, Cato. Focus. I come to my senses, turn off the water and change out of my clothes. For the next hour, I pace around my room, trying to get myself to focus on anything but home, anything but Clove.

Thinking of the present does not work; I'll be in the Games with her soon. Thinking of District 2 makes me remember all the times we passed in town and she angled her body away from me, eyes glaring. Thinking of my childhood only brings back the memory I am not proud of, of our first kiss. The walls of the room seem to be closing in on me, the atmosphere getting increasingly hotter by the second. Eventually, Clove's name is all I hear screaming through my head. White-hot anger spreads throughout my body, and I turn to the nearest wall and punch a hole through it.

I make my way to the door and run out my bedroom, seeking to be anywhere except for that stifling hot room. I find myself standing in the middle of an area on the train designated for small conversations, which is dotted with blue and green couches. I throw myself onto one and cover my face with my arms. Waking up in the middle of the night and my quick change in moods has made me exhausted, but I still find myself feeling angry. At 2:30 in the morning, I finally begin to calm myself down. My breathing slows, my mind clears. Slowly, I drift off into a calm sleep, void of any nightmares.

I wake up to a loud bang coming from the room next to mine. I sit up straight on the black couch, sleep still pulling my eyes down. I groggily turn my head to look at the clock and stifle a yawn. It's 6:11 AM, and somebody is actually awake. I roll my eyes and turn on my side, trying to fall back into the peaceful sleep I was just in. After fifteen minutes, I realize my efforts are hopeless. Now that I'm awake, I can't go back to sleep. I lay on my back on the couch with my eyes closed, not yet ready to face the day I have ahead of me. We'll be in the Capitol by now, and in a few hours I'll be prepped for the tribute parade. I am not looking forward to meeting my stylist. The Capitol people are all freaks, and I will have to pretend to like them if I want any sponsors in the Games at all. Whoever I get will surely annoy me to my wits end.

I hear my stomach make an awful growling noise and I stretch my legs. I pull myself up and walk to the kitchen, where I heard the loud noise coming from before. I expect to see Iris sitting at the table eating breakfast. She seemed like an early riser. But when I step into the room, an entirely different scene meets my eyes. There's glass all over the floor, pink liquid and ice cubes strewn everywhere. A basket of rolls is tipped over and the bread has all toppled out of it. Clove is on her hands and knees, setting towels over the juice, hoping it will soak up. "Crap, crap, crap," she mutters to herself.

I take in what I am witnessing, watching Clove attempt to scrub the smooth, polished floor clear of juice. I scan her body, running my eyes from her sticky hands up to her pale face. Her brown hair is in a frizzy mess strung over her shoulder, and I see parts of it clumped together with juice. I feel a laugh bubbling up in my throat. The whole thing is too funny. The fact that Clove made a mess of everything when she presents herself with such skill and finesse, the state her hair is in, and how she still hasn't noticed that I've been standing over her, watching this the entire time.

Before I can stop it, the loud laugh escapes through my throat. Clove starts and snaps her head up, face beat red and brown eyes narrowed. "Who—Cato," she says. "What are you laughing at? Come here and help me." I raise my eyebrows. "A little demanding, don't you think?" I say with a condescending smile. Clove doesn't say anything, just continues to scrub the floor and duck her head. I mull over my options and decide I don't want to watch her strain her arms over some juice after she asked for my help, so I step behind her and grab a towel.

I drop to the floor and lay a towel over the juice, wiping most of it away. "Okay, done. I'll go pick up the bread." I walk over to the basket and start collecting the pieces of bread that have rolled across the room. "Clove," I say. "What happened?" "I got hungry. I picked up a plate, tripped over that chair, and my flailing arms brought the pitcher and basket down with me. Kay? Now get away from me."

Just—Just stay away from me. Her words from that day in District 2 so long ago come back to me. "I was just wondering, Clove." I mutter. I sigh. Clove hates me. Or at least, she acts like it. Clove acts the same way with me that she does with everyone else. Cold, and guarded, which suggests I mean nothing to her. But my personality, it changes around her. I'm known as an extremely conceited seventeen year old that would do anything to win the Games. I'm trained to kill, and I will. But when I'm around Clove, my anger about her fades. I can't remember why I could ever resent her for making me feel the way I do. I soften around her, ready to laugh and talk to her, and I don't even try to stop myself. But she shuts me out. And maybe I should start to do the same.

I get up and walk out of the room, moved to anger by the own thoughts swirling around my head. My shoulders tense when I'm in the doorway, the sound of her voice reaching my ears. "Sorry, Cato. I just can't stand being laughed at." I turn around to look at Clove, and she's staring down at the floor, a confused look on her face. She looks like she had no control over the apology that just came out of her mouth, and the cold look in her eyes returns. I turn away from her. "It's fine, really."

With that, I walk swiftly back to my room and flop onto my bed. I don't let any thoughts invade my head as I close my eyes and drift off into a light sleep.

There's a pounding sound coming from my door when I open my eyes. It's Iris telling me it's time to get up. "Cato! Honey, you have to get out of there, it's time to get ready for tonight!" When I don't answer her, Iris gets irritated. "Cato! I expect you out of that room in five minutes." I hear her heels click against the floor as she stalks away from my door. I groan. I hate the way Iris says my name, putting emphasis on the t. With her long, sleek blonde hair that's streaked with blue and held up with feathers, Iris is the epitome of what the Capitol people are. And I'll have to deal with them for the rest of my life as victor.

I pull myself slowly out of my bed and grab my shirt from the wardrobe in my room. My stylist will change my clothes soon enough, but my shirt's wrinkly and still a little damp from earlier today. I slowly make my way into the kitchen, where I hear the voices of Iris and my mentors. There've been plenty of victors from District 2, a lot of which are still alive. But Brutus and Enobaria are fan-favorites, young enough for the Capitol, and ruthless. They're the ones who'll be working with Clove and I for the time leading up to the Games. "Be on time next time, boy! We're at the center, your stylist is waiting. And little Clovey here's been waiting for you to wake up for hours," Brutus says with a chuckle. He puts his arm around Clove, squeezing her until it looks like her eyes will pop out. He's been drinking, I can tell.

Clove pushes Brutus off of her. "It's Clove," she says with an edge to her voice.

"Actually, I was up before you. I just went back into my room," I say, giving Clove a pointed look.

"Well, whatever then. Come out when Iris tells you to. Let's go," Enobaria says as she walks out the door.

"You've got insane muscle tone for someone your age," a member of my prep team says with a wink. They've wiped my body clean of hair and are now working on my face, pulling tweezers at my eyebrows. "You're so handsome, we really hardly have to do any work on you!" another one says. When I found out that I had three women for my prep team, I was relieved. The prospect of stripping down in front of a man had not had me eager, so I greeted the prep team with charm. Now I wish there was a room full of men in front of me, because these three women have annoyed the living hell out of me since I stepped into the room. Look, I'm all for compliments. But these women are talking nonstop about the Capitol and the latest fashions that came out, stupid crap like how they just can't seem to find the right shade of lipstick for their skin tone. Their poor souls. I feel like knifing each and every one of them.

"Alright, sweetheart, you're done! Time to meet your stylist!" I look up from my hands to see, thank god, a man walking into the room. His hair is all alternating colors of blue and green, and his shade of skin is so tanned that it's orange. But he's a man nonetheless. "Hello, Cato," the man says. "My name is Edgar."

"Hey," I say, not caring what the man thinks of me. "Am I getting changed for the tribute parade now?"

"No," he says. "First we lunch." My stomach drops when I think of the prospect of making conversation with this man for a half hour, but Edgar keeps the talk light. I actually enjoy myself listening to him speak about the weaponry of the past Games and the different arenas he has seen in his life. I guess some Capitol people aren't half bad, I think. When we're done with the food, Edgar presses a button to the left of the table and I see a door open across the room, revealing something gold that I can't see from such a far distance. "Cato," he says. "This is your outfit for the parade tonight. Why don't we go see if it fits?"

Five minutes later, I find myself in the gold costume I'll be wearing for the next few hours. On my head I wear a band with circle knobs placed across it at one-inch intervals. The band is attached to two wings that spread out beyond my head. My chest is covered with a gold plate, on top of which are small metal feathers that form a half circle on the top of my chest. I'm wearing armor, really. The upper half of the armor has sleeves around four inches long, leaving my shoulders bare. There is a band-design around my waist, separating the upper half of the armor from the lower half. I smile at my reflection in the mirror. Surely, this outfit will gain me sponsors.

I imagine the way the gold will shine in the darkness and underneath the city lights of the Capitol. I can't wait to see the Capitol citizens erupt into cheers when they see me in the chariot, and look down into the faces of all my future fans who will be meeting me for the first time tonight. I think of everyone in the audience swooning at my feet and I can't manage to suppress a smile. Edgar takes me down to the bottom of the remake center, where the tributes and their chariots will be prepared for the parade. We're the first to arrive at our horses, and we stand and wait for the rest of us to arrive. I survey our animals. There are two of them, both a dazzling shade of white with gold collars that contrast well with the costume I am wearing. I'm scratching one of them behind the ear when I feel Edgar nudge my arm. I look up to see the District 2 party coming towards us. Brutus and Enobaria lead the way, and Clove and Mariella, her stylist, walk directly behind them.

Brutus breaks away from the pack to go greet Edgar, and I catch a glimpse of Clove in her armor. My jaw drops. Her hair is done up in an elaborate braided hairstyle on top of her head, and the gold armor brings out the creamy color of her skin. I watch as she fits the helmet on top of her head, her headpiece is different than mine. Her brown eyes reflect the color of gold she is wearing, making them shine more than normal. Every feature of her face has been drawn out, her full lips especially. I cannot bring myself to take my eyes of her. She looks stunning. Her costume is almost exactly identical to mine, although the design on her chest made by the feathers is more elaborate. When she finishes fixing her helmet on exactly how she wants it, Clove looks up to find my eyes trained on her. To my surprise, I see her lips form a thin smile, but I don't think she knows I noticed.

I return her smile and pull myself into our chariot, ready to get the night started. "You need a hand?" I say, extending mine to Clove. She says nothing, so I clasp mine in hers and pull her up into the chariot next to me, which requires next to no effort. Clove has such a slender figure, I've lifted things three times as heavy as she is. "Thanks," she mutters without looking up at me. "Are you ready for this?" I reply, choosing to ignore from here on out how cold she acts toward me. I don't care how much she dislikes me or why, I am determined to get on her good side. Sure, this may backfire on me in the arena. But the odds are against her surviving anyway, so I manage to push the thought out of my head. "They're going to love us, Clove! Come on, smile. The sponsors want to see you smile! I've never seen you give me one, give it a shot."

"Never?" Clove says, and her eyes flicker up to meet mine. I know she remembers the day when we were thirteen too, and she's pushing me to remember how she told me to keep my distance. I don't care.

"Well, not in years anyway. Come on, freckles. SMILE." Cloves eyebrows knit together and she bursts out laughing. A smile creeps onto my face at the accomplishment of actually getting her to flash a genuine smile.

"Freckles? Really Cato? You couldn't have come up with anything better than that? God, you should work on that one." Clove turns her body away from me, but the smile stays on her lips. She's warming up to me, I think. Five minutes later, I see Enobaria signaling to us that we should be getting ready to pass through the door and out into the square. District 1 is already in position, and I can see their chariots starting to lurch forward. I straighten my headpiece on my head and lift my head up high. I'm ready for the fans to start screaming. As I pass through the large open doors, I hear the general cheers of the crowd for District 1, who always sit well with the fans. When the crowd sees us, I see smiles jump onto faces and screams leave gaping mouths.

Everyone is chanting the name of our district, and I hear calls of "Cato! Clove!" in all directions. The crowd loves us. The screams continue, and the thrill of it all rushes to my brain and gets my heart pumping. This is why I want to be victor of the Games. This is what I'm meant to do. I look out into the crowd with a placid face, smiling at random citizens every now and then. I wave at the ones who scream my name and take in the roar of the crowd as our chariot rolls along the street. After a few minutes, I steel a glance at Clove to find a determined smile on her face as she waves to the crowd, her actions never faltering. She has her heart set on getting people to notice her, no matter what it takes.

She looks up at my face and gives me a small smile before we both turn away and address the crowd. In that instant, I realize that something has changed. The crowd is no longer staring at us with admiration. Every single pair of eyes are fixated on a point behind us. I listen to the cheers as I hear people screaming "District 12! Katniss!" What the fuck is a Katniss? And District 12? No one ever pays attention to them, as their tributes always die early on in the Games. They haven't had a victor in years, they really are pathetic. I'm not even entirely sure what their district's industry is, although I think it has something to do with mining.

Anger boils through my veins as the crowd continues to ignore us and the other districts, all of them shouting the same things. "It's District 12! They're holding hands! Peeta!" Peeta? Isn't that a bread? Really, the names other people give in their districts are ridiculous. I allow myself to look up at one of the gigantic screens hung around the square and I see what everyone is freaking out about. The District 12 tributes are literally on fire. They're wearing all black jump suits, black capes, and headpieces. Their capes and headpieces are adorned with real flames, blowing behind them in the wind and flickering in the darkness. So much for me shining in the darkness. I silently curse Edgar for not thinking of an idea as clever as this one. All of the sponsors will be fixated on them now, when in reality they don't even stand a chance in the Games. I am unable to keep the anger from reaching my face and Clove nudges me. She gives me a look that might as well have been words spoken aloud for all the attention the crowd is giving us. Continue to smile, she's saying. They don't matter, this is just the parade.

So for the next half hour, I stick it out and try to make myself look appealing to the crowd. I play off he conceited angle, loving the few cheers the crowd sends my way. After the President's speech, we are directed to the training center and given to the hands of our mentors, stylists, and prep teams. A few members of other prep teams give Clove and I small compliments and praise for our costumes, but most of them swarm District 12 as soon as they arrive in the room. I am seething with anger and I look over at Clove to find her face consumed with rage as well. An outlying district has literally outshone us. We can't let it happen again. I step onto the elevator and push the button to get to the second floor, which is the floor I will be living in until the actual Games begin. When the elevator lets me off at our floor, Iris shows me my room and tells me that everything is open for me to use. I change out of my armor and throw it onto the floor. I wait until Iris calls me down to dinner, which I'm more than ready for.

No one really tries to make chit-chat at the dinner table. I think we're all pondering over strategies to use in the Games and how to make sure District 12 doesn't make another appearance like that one. After a little bit, the thought of the food in front of me and what happened tonight makes me lose my appetite. I don't touch my food and tell one of the mute servants around here to take it away from me.

When everyone is finished eating, we watch the recap of the tribute parade on the TV, which is being reviewed on every TV across the nation of Panem. Seeing Clove and I in the chariot cheers me up a little, as we do look pretty good, and Brutus and Enobaria who are usually blunt and honest, do compliment us on our outfits. But District 12 still looks a lot better. As soon as the recap is over, I lock myself in my room , ready to relax for the rest of the night. I drift off into a light sleep immediately, thinking of all the ways I can get revenge on my fellow tributes from the lowest District in Panem.

I wake myself up in a few hours and look at the clock. It's 12:31 AM, but there's no way I can fall asleep now. I shouldn't have let myself nod off before, I wasn't even tired. For a few minutes, I stare at the ceiling. Then I hear my stomach growl and get up to go the kitchen. Any food is at my disposal in my room, but I really don't want to be confined in their right now. I want to feel the open space of the large quarters the District 2 party has to themselves. I run out of my room and down the hall, ready to snack on all of the delectable food the Capitol has to offer, one of the only sane things about this place. But when I reach the kitchen, I find the light already on and see her standing there. Clove.

"Oh, Cato," she mumbles when she hears me walk in. "Sorry, I'll get out, I just, uh—" "Clove!" I cut her off. "It's okay, you can stay. I'm pretty sure there's room for both of us in this kitchen." Clove just continues to eat the pastry she was working on and shoots me a quick "Okay" as I search for something to eat. "Midnight snack?" I say. Clove nods. "Yeah, I didn't eat my dinner either," I say to her, trying hard to make conversation.

Finally, I find some jam and spread it onto a few pieces of bread. I sit next to Clove and we eat in silence. I know better than to try to say something to her. She'll either snap at me or not reply. As I sit, I think about Clove's behavior since I arrived. First, she's a complete bitch and angry all the time. Then she apologizes for her behavior and acts civil towards me at the parade. Now she's cold again, and nervous-looking to go with it. Before I can stop myself, words are pouring put of my mouth.

"Clove. Why do you hate me so much?" Clove chokes on her food and gives me a look of complete surprise. "What? I don't hate you, I—" "You don't hate me?" I interrupt. "All you do is shoot me dirty looks and you always act hostile around me. And I'm not even talking about lately. This goes back to District 2. All you do is give me dirty looks at school and avoid any conversation with me, on top of talking about me with your annoying friends. What the hell is your problem with me? You've acted this way ever since.. Since th—" "Since when, Cato," Clove says, staring down at the floor. "Since when we were thirteen?"

We stand there in silence for a few minutes until I choke out the word "yeah." Clove sighs. "I guess.. I mean— Look Cato, I don't hate you. I never have. The only reason I acted that way was because.. God, what is wrong with you? Look, listen, and listen good because I'm not saying this again. I was shocked when you spent all that time with me that day. Guys like you don't go for girls like me. When you kissed me.. I got scared. I don't like trusting people. I don't like opening up. I didn't want to like you. I thought that was something you would understand after you told me about your family. I didn't need a distraction from training because I didn't need more crap from my Mom, and I definitely didn't need anyone finding out my secrets! So I told you to keep your distance, which thankfully you did. And you got so arrogant after that it wasn't hard to avoid you, Cato. But I've spent years and years trying to forget you, and I just can't! You work your way into my thoughts and stay there! And now look where we are, which is exactly what I was trying to get away from! There's only ONE victor in these Games, Cato. One! Why can't you think for a second and try to get a grip on the situation, try to understand? What the hell!"

Clove looks at me and waits for a response. Her eyes are full of frustration and it looks like a tear is about to spill over. So that's why she's been the way she has with me. She put the walls up to guard herself from falling for a boy. For.. me. "Wait, so.. You like me?" Clove's eyes narrow and she yells again. "Oh my god, is that seriously all you got from what I just said?" I can't think of anything to say to her. Clove likes me. She hated me.. But she likes me. And I think I fell for her years ago as well. I know that there's no way both of us can survive in tha Games. But they haven't started yet, and as of now I don't care. I grab Clove's hand and pull her toward me before she can protest. "How about a kiss like our first?" I say to her with a wink. I press my lips against hers, and instantly I feel her shoulders relax and the anger seep out of her body. I break away from her and smile down into her face. She's smiling back. "Cato.." she whispers. The only reason I told you that is because one of us is not making it out of the arena. And I wanted you to know before our time was up."

"I know," I say.

We stay in the kitchen for a few more hours, laughing, eating and talking, before branching off into our separate rooms. When I reach my bed, I fall asleep immediately. My dreams are full of brown hair, knives, and a beautiful, pink lipped smile.


	3. Chapter 3

***Hey guys, part 3 is finally up! Sorry it took so long. I guess this chapter is like flashblack chapter to give the story flow, & I'm sorry if you think my casual conversations are crappy. I think I'm getting better at them. I really like this part, and I hope you guys enjoy it. The Games have begun. c:!***

I'm sitting in a soft-backed chair underneath the arena that'll be my home for the next few weeks. I don't really care what's inside it. Concealment, openness, anything is okay with me. I'd prefer if it wasn't too hot in there, but it doesn't really matter. No matter what the weather or what is provided to me, nothing will stand in my way. So I don't allow myself to worry about the arena, or the weaponry they'll give me, or even the other tributes. But still, I can feel my heartbeat quickening with each moment that passes, my nerves running high. I'm not afraid to die, because I know that's not a possibility. But the only thing my mind will let myself dwell on is my father. All of his harsh words he's thrown my way over the years are running through my head, making me cringe at the memories. All of the times he told me I meant nothing to him, or to anybody, unless I could win. All of the times he told me I was worthless, stupid, and forced me to train until I couldn't lift a sword.

I can't afford to mess up once that gong sounds. I have to prove him wrong. I have more than enough faith in myself, I just don't know whether or not I can make him have faith in me. His screams are echoing through my head, threatening to overwhelm me, when I get up out of my chair and kick it away from me out of frustration, hard. I force myself to slow my breathing and shake my head a few times, clearing my thoughts out and controlling my pulse. I tell myself that I'm being ridiculous, that I've trained hard for this, that I'm going to win no matter what.

I walk over to where the chair fell at Edgar's feet. He looks startled at my sudden and unexpected outburst but motions toward me anyway. "Here, put this on," he says, and hands me my jacket. My clothes will be identical to those of all the other tributes. I circle the room, jumping up and down and jogging. "The clothes feel great," I say. "Good," Edgar replies with a smirk. He studies me, then clears his throat. "You're the top contender, Cato," he says. "I won't be at all surprised when you come out of the arena, based on all you've done."He's trying to reassure me, and it's working. I know that I'll have sponsors, and I know I'll win. I'd just feel more confident if it wasn't for District 12.

The training and the interview both went well. Clove and I separated during training to go work with our separate weapons, and also to ensure packs with our fellow careers. District 1 looks promising, they'll be plenty useful to have around. We all decided not to keep the boy from District 4 around, but the girl will be valuable. I out showed everyone with weaponry skills, not bothering to take notice of the outlying districts. Every time I looked over at them, they were trying to learn how to start fires or tie knots, memorizing which plants are edible and which aren't. Skills people who won't have supplies will need. Skills needed by those who can't even pick up a knife, let alone kill.

When the scores were aired after our three days of training, I was sitting to the left of Brutus, Clove on his right. The District 1 tributes both received nines, a decent score for their amount of skill. I tensed as my name flashed across the screen, followed by my score. 10. I laughed aloud and took in the congratulations of everyone around me, pride filling my body. This is the score victors from districts 1, 2, and 4 usually get. Clove leaned over to me and said "Congratulations, Cato," with a wink. I smiled at her and turned my attention the screen, where Caesar Flickerman was calling out her name and her score was already flashing with bolded white letters on the TV.

10. She gave a squeak and jumped off the couch. I encircled her in my arms. "Nice job, Clover." She broke away from me and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you still need to work on that. But it's better." We smiled at each other for a few more seconds and then realized where we were. I glanced over at the people sitting on the couch. They were all sitting with their mouths agape and quickly averted their eyes when I met theirs. I cleared my throat. "Let's just check out the rest of the ranks," I said. I sat back down next to Brutus, not wanting to draw any attention to whatever it is Clove and I have going on.

The scores and the names of my competition all flew by, me not really paying any attention to them. I was just about ready to close my eyes and clock out when I heard the number. 11. I sat straight up, shooting an incredulous look to the others sitting on the couch. Everyone's mouths were again hanging open, and I saw a fire light in Clove's eyes. "_Her?"_ she screamed. She's right. District 12, the small brunette? The most she ever did in training was name all the edible plants in existence and giggle pathetically at lunch at everything the boy from her district said. She showed no skill whatsoever, so how the hell did she score an _11_?

A feeling of unease had swept over the room, and Clove had started muttering under her breath, her expression cold. Eventually, she got so worked up she shot out of her seat, still smoldering. I expected her to scream, but she was deadly quiet. "I just _don't get it_. I don't understand. She's from District 12, since when can they do anything except mine for coal? She's pathetic. She's got _nothing_!" she turned to me. "We sure as hell better get her in the arena, Cato. I swear, I'll kill her." Then she stormed out of the room. That was the first time I saw the other side of Clove. I'd seen it surface in training, both at home and at the training center here. The way she focuses on her target and nothing else until she pierces it through the heart, the confidence she feels afterward.

She comes off pleasant enough to others, and she's warm to me when we're alone. But she's just as ruthless as I am. That's probably why I'm so drawn to her.

I'm pulled out of my world of memories when Edgar offers me water, which I take. I'm moved to anger myself now, thinking of Fire Girl and how she outscored me. Clove's anger was not misdirected, how could she manage that? Katniss Everdeen, I think. The Girl on Fire. Hah, the interviews went exactly the same. I shined. The Capitol loved my cocky, bloodthirsty, and unforgiving personality. Clove won them over with her charm. She wore a red dress and her hair was in a complicated style, most of it left falling over her shoulders. She looked beautiful. The crowd loved the mysterious, sweet, sarcastic girl from District 2.

After Cloves three minutes were up and she took her seat next to me, I felt confident. The sponsors would be competing amongst themselves to get a chance to sponsor me. And they all adored Clove and her malicious personality cleverly interspersed with a sweet one; they'd all come around to her soon enough. I know that they have their doubts about her due to her size, but they'll think twice once they see her throw a knife. I thought no one could top us. All of the tributes had pretty decent angles to play the crowd, I'll give them that. District 5's redhead seemed cunning and sneaky, but we all know she's not winning the Games.. Both of District 11's tributes made a splash.

The little girl won the crowd over with her sweet, innocent small talk, but there's no way she's getting sponsors. Everyone knows there's no way she'll even survive the bloodbath. The male definitely won the people over, though. He had a dark power about himself, and he didn't even say much. During training I asked him to eat lunch with us. He knew that would lead to an alliance with the Careers, and he still refused. I can't think of one reason why. What I fucking stupid thing to do. I know he'll be my biggest competition in the arena, but I'm sure I could bring him down with my sword, easy.

Until District 12 came, I thought Clove and I had stolen the show. We had made an impression on the viewers, left them wanting more from our district. No one else had done that, until Fire Girl brought her flames up to the stage. This time they were in the form of a dress. She spun on the stage and giggled like an idiot, and smiled at everything Caesar said. Her bubbly attitude made me want to knock her teeth out, and it didn't even phase me when she talked about her poor little sister. Sure, the crowd would have sympathy for her. But that's not going to get her many sponsors. Then came loverboy, with his high and mighty confession of love for his district counterpart, the crowds immediate reaction. Oh, the poor tributes, how their love was doomed.

The star-crossed lovers of District 12. What a joke! Fire Girl and loverboy had stolen all the attention once again. The fact that the Capitol had even bought into that crap proves how simpleminded they are. We'll see how their undying love holds up in the arena, when they'll be forced to reveal how real or fake it is. _How would the audience react if they knew about Clove and I?_ I think. _Whatever it is Clove and I are._ It doesn't matter, though. How stupid you have to be to present yourself as star-crossed lovers is beyond me. It may earn them sponsors, but this angle only makes the District 12 tributes look weak. Instead of batting your eyelashes at the Girl on Fire, loverboy, why don't you stand and fight for real.

My anger brings me back to myself. _Focus, Cato_, I think. _You need to be ready._ I'll be stepping onto the launch pad soon, but my head is still swimming with thoughts of training and interviews. I look down at the cup clutched in my hand and realize that my knuckles are pale white. I loosen my grip and force myself to stare at the water in the cup and think of nothing else. Clear water.. My eyes drift to the glass surrounding the water and the color of it registers in my mind. Red.

I smile, a real one that finds its way all the way to my eyes. Right now, she's the only person that could make me smile this way. We've been spending a lot of time together late at night, after training and after everyone's gone to sleep. Last night we met in the dining room as soon as Brutus retreated to his room down the hall. When she tiptoed into the room I was already there waiting for her."Hey, Clover," I said.

"Oh Cato, stop! My name is Clove. I hate nicknames, especially one as frilly as that," she replied.

"I know," I said. "That's why I'm calling you that.

Before I could tease her more, she picked up a knife from the table and threw it toward my face. It flew over my head and stuck into the wall just above me. I looked up and pulled it out by the handle, rattled and shocked. Clove smirked at the startled expression that was undoubtedly plastered on my face. "Say it again and it'll be in your head."

My expression grew and Clove laughed. "You could've killed me!" I yelled.

"Cato, I wouldn't. There's '_no fighting with the tributes before the arena,'"_ she said, mimicking the nasally tone of Atala, one of the trainers. "Besides, I was aiming above your head. If I had aimed directly for it, you'd be dead right now." Underneath the smirk and soft attitude, I saw a glint of insanity in Cloves eyes. It's always there, I realized. Just not always noticeable. I moved toward her, intrigued like I always am by who she is. I leaned in toward her face, leaving mine centimeters from hers.

"I bet you wouldn't risk it again," I whispered. Clove didn't move away, just rolled her eyes. "Oh please. There's no risk in it, you'd never get killed 'cause I'd never miss."

"Oh, wow, don't be modest or anything!" I said. She giggled.

"I'm just stating the truth. Get against that wall."

I answered with a raise of my eyebrows and a seductive smile. "Oh, so you want me against the wall now?"

"SHUT UP, Cato!" Clove screamed. "I'm serious!" I chuckled and made my way over to the wall. I stood with my back against it, arms spread out.

"If you're doing what I think you will.. There's no way," I said. "You're sixteen; you have to slip up at least once. Throw all the knives you can find in the kitchen. I bet you'll draw blood at least once."

"Oh? And what do I get if I don't?" Clove replies.

"It's up to you," I muttered, and her smile grew.

"I get… the biggest sword in the arena." The smirk dropped from my face.

"NO! No way, I need that, you've got your weapon!"

"Awh. Scared?" she replied, a smug look on her face.

"No,"I said. "Throw them."

The glint returned to Cloves eyes and she picked up a knife from the counter. She threw it and it went soaring toward my head. I scrunched up my face but didn't move, and the knife stuck just to the side of my left ear. Clove continued with the routine, sometimes placing a horrified look on her face after she threw a knife, making it look like her hand had skipped and she was about to kill me. But she never messed up. She never misses.

When all the available knives were gone, Clove had a knife outlining every major part of my body. "Ha-ha!" she giggled. "I get the sword, Cato. Don't worry. I only want to use it once." I moved toward her, bending down to her height.

"There's no way, Clover. It's mine." She stood up on her tiptoes and the corners of her mouth lifted up in a smile.

"A bet's a bet," she said. I didn't move away, just stood her down, challenging her. My eyes met hers and she leaned into me, pressing her lips against mine. I was surprised at first, not expecting her to show any affection. Eventually, I kissed her back, pulling her in closer to me.

Clove's so guarded, every time she lets me in it's so different. We spent the rest of the night laughing and talking of things of no particular interest, like how old we were when we started training, or what our favorite colors were. Hers is red.

Edgar places a hand on my shoulder and I'm reminded of where exactly I am. "Get ready, Cato," he says. "It's time to prepare for launch." I take a deep breath and clear my mind. I'm more than ready for what I'm about to do. I give Edgar's hand one final shake before I leave, and he gives me an encouraging pat on back. "Good luck. I'll see you soon," he says. I give him a quick thank you and step onto the metal plate. The glass encircles around me and lifts me upwards. I'm surrounded by darkness until I reach the arena, and the metal plate pushes me out of the cylinder and into the open air.

I'm blinded by the sunlight at first, but soon my eyes fixate on the golden cornucopia, overflowing with weapons and supplies. I position myself to run toward it just as I hear Claudius Templesmith's voice booming through the arena. "Ladies and gentleman, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

We have exactly sixty seconds until the gong sounds. Sixty seconds until the Games start. I hear the timer counting down and allow myself to take in my surroundings. There's a lake to my right side, woods to my left. The Cornucopia is situated on an open space, nothing but dirt underneath it. It's a pretty simple arena, but the weapons I see are better than I had dared hope for.

Twenty seconds left. I look at the faces of the tributes to the sides of me and see a mix of fear and determination. Ten seconds. I lean forward, ready to jump off my plate, ready to run. Five seconds. I take in one collective breath and I hear the sound of the gong ring out.

Adrenaline courses through my veins as I leap off the plate and run as fast as I can toward the supplies. My feet hit the hard-packed earth so hard my teeth ring, and I'm one of the first tributes to get there to the Cornucopia. I see Glimmer arrive seconds after me. I give her a nod and start toward a case I'm sure contains a sword as she grabs a silver bow and a sheath of arrows. I open the case quickly, grab the biggest sword in there, and spin around to survey the other tributes. One lies rolling on the ground, Glimmer's arrow lodged in his shoulder. She shoots again and it sticks on the side of his neck. Blood spews out of him as the life drains out of his body.

I see a girl running toward a pack that lies on the ground near me and smile to myself. Big mistake, District 7. As she bends down to retrieve it I stick the sword into her back, pulling it out quickly to find it dripping with blood. As she crumples to the floor I kick her body away from me, ready for other opponents. A few are already dead, and I look to the trees to see a flash of red hair retreat into the woods. Many tributes will be hiding in the welcoming arms of the branches, waiting for me to come and kill them.

As I see more tributes run away from where I am, I catch my first glimpse of Clove since last night. She's directly behind two tributes. One I don't recognize, the other is Fire Girl. She throws her knife and it sticks into the back of the boy. Katniss grabs a backpack from the ground and starts to run toward the trees. Clove steps forward and throws her weapon as hard as she can toward District 12. To her horror, it lodges in the pack Katniss used to protect her head. But she does not pursue her, which I understand. We need to get rid of the tributes here, and Fire Girl will be easy to kill later.

I feel a sharp stab of pain on my left arm and see the boy from District 5 with a triumphant smile plastered on his face standing behind me, knife in hand. I start toward him and he ducks, coming around to punch me in the jaw. Before he can, I grab his arm and twist it around until I feel a snap. He cries out in pain as I kick him to the ground. His eyes are filled with tears and a pleading look as I grab his knife from his hand and slide it across his throat. I straighten up and distance myself from the boy, ready for more blood to shed.

The sight that meets my eyes is different than the one I expected, and I can feel terror starting to creep into my mind. Clove is in a fight with a girl tribute, just about ready to raise a knife to her head and kill her. But there's another one creeping up behind her, and he's ready to attack. "CLOVE!" I yell. I run toward her but realize I won't get there in time to kill the boy. I toss her my sword and yell "behind you!" Her eyes widen as she catches the sword by the hilt. She kicks the girl away from her and spins around just in time to stab the boy through the heart. If she took a second longer, she would've been dead. I'm shaking so hard, but relief floods through me as I reach her side. She raises her knife and finishes the girl, District 6, off. There's a small smile on her face as she does the job, and I see the glint in her eyes, intensified this time. I turn my back to her, prepared to be bombarded with attacks.

I'm confused. That's the most scared I've been in years, and it's all because of her. Because I almost had to endure watching her die, but I went out of my way to save her instead.

Images of her blood pouring over the ground and her picture in the sky tonight flood my head and I feel my heart drop into my stomach, I feel my throat close up.

It's now that I realize what I'll have to do in the weeks to come. There's no way I can afford to let Clove get killed while I'm around, no way I'd be able to let that happen. I need to win, but she cannot die. No matter how much this goes against my instincts, or how much this may affect me in the end, I have to fight for her. I have to protect her. ..I have to keep her alive. It's now that I realize what I've gotten myself into, how the girl with the knives has changed everything. It's in this moment that I realize my love for her.. _Love_ for her, will end up driving me insane.


End file.
